She awoke startled. Reflexively she grabbed her sidearm off of her nightstand after bolting upright. She stared down the sights scanning the room for danger. Once she realized she was alone and in bed, she sighed heavily and fell back into her pillows. She could feel the sharp pain from the stab wound that was stitched up earlier. Fuck my life, she thought. She looked at her clock and grumbled at the fluorescent numbers staring her down, 2:30am. She resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn't be getting anymore sleep and rose out of bed. She stumbled to the bathroom opening her medicine cabinet and grabbing the pills given to her at the hospital. She popped three into her mouth and swallowed. She didn't even bother getting water. Her whole body hurt, more than usual. Her ribs ached, her face felt like it had been tenderized with a mallet and she couldn't really her feel her hand. Oh well, she thought, I could be dead. She had been in a constant state of agony anyway, ever since the accident. Its not like this was anything new. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she willed the memories of that night away.

She turned on the light in the bathroom and examined herself in the mirror. Jesus Christ, she thought. I look like a damn punching bag. Once she had enough of her reflection, she went into the kitchen to grab a beer. Breakfast of champions she thought. She stepped outside onto her deck and shivered when the wall of cold air assaulted her. She sat down in one of the chairs and closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath of the winter air. Immediately her mind drifted to the last December she spent with her.

It was cold, like most winters are. You sat on the porch wrapped in a blanket while you painted the landscape in front of you. I bought this house so you could escape the city. We spent every weekend on the lakefront property. I could sit and watch you for hours. You were beautiful without even trying. You found wonder in everything. As you painted I could hear you singing. Your beautiful alto voice cutting through the frigid air. "I love you." I say, and you turn around and smile. Your dark brown eyes soft and happy...

As quickly as they memory came, she pushed it away. She didnt have time for this shit, she thought as she went back inside. She decided to take a shower and as she stood under the hot water, she couldnt help but wonder if she's ever going to feel anything again. The sting of the hot water on her freshly stitched wound barely registered. She wasn't even sure if she should even be subjecting the injury to water. Once she realized she probably shouldn't, she quickly turned off the water and walked through the house. The air was chilly but she didn't care. She went to her closet and pulled out one of her suits. As she finished getting dressed she heard her cellphone ring.

"Torres." She spoke into the receiver.

"They found another one" Her partners voice said.

"How bad?" She asked, sighing.

"It's...bad." He hesitated. "How soon can you get here?" He asked.

"Give me an hour and a half." She answered as she pulled on a leather jacket and grabbed her helmet as she walked out the door. She pulled a bandana out of her jacket pocket and tied it around the bottom half of her face. She enjoyed the fact that it looked like a human skull. She placed the helmet on her head and fastened the strap beneath her chin. She covered her eyes with her trademark aviators and climbed on her bike. She couldn't help but smile as she fired the Harley up. It's gonna be a cold ride she thought as she drove toward the city.

At the crime scene she was greeted by the usual barricades and onlookers. As she made her way through the crowd, she couldn't help but feel annoyed. What purpose did standing around at a place of tragedy serve. What did you really hope to see? She flashed her badge to the uniformed officer and he directed her to the run down apartment ahead. Before she even saw him, she could her partners voice barking out orders.

"No one is to go inside!" He stated

"Dom!" Demi called out, signaling him to come to her.

"Took you long enough." Detective Dominik Davis said to her as he quickly walked to her location.

"I was out at the lake house." She answered.

"Well, shit. I should've known. It's the weekend..." He said trailing off as he glanced at the silver band on her left hand. "What the fuck happened to your face?" He asked as he registered the cuts and bruises that graced her features.

"Remember that 15 year old that got raped on Monday? I randomly ran into a guy that matched his description. Let's just say, I caught him and that's all that matters." The female detective answered.

"Jesus Christ." He said. "He got you good Dem. You ok?" He asked concerned.

"Yeah. I'm good." She answered. "Show me the scene." She said as both detectives entered the building.

The inside of the building was just as shitty as the outside. As the detectives ascended the stairs, Dominik explained how the body was found. Once they made it to the top floor both cops headed to the end of the hallway. Demi was shocked when she stepped into the one room apartment. The smell nearly floored her. She brought her arm up over face and buried her nose in the crook of her elbow.

"What the fuck Dom! You could have warned me." She scolded as she fought the urge to puke. He just shrugged as the annoyed woman began to take in her surroundings. She immediately noticed the amount of blood. It was ridiculous and all over the place. As she studied the body, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl. She looked young, and if it wasn't for all the purple marks and the fact that she was split open like a fish, she probably would have been pretty. Her hands and feet were bound to the bedposts and she wasn't wearing any clothes. The crime scene technician took photos and began the tedious process of collecting evidence. Demi pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and slipped her hands into them, the latex popping as it settled onto her wrist.

She studied the girl closely, searching for any peculiar marks. "Look, right here." She instructed her partner. She directed him to look at the girls inner thigh. "It's the Roman numeral for thirteen. She's his thirteenth victim." She stated bitterly.

The man sat and watched from across the street. When he saw the detectives exit the apartment building, he immediately recognized the female. He remembered her from the hospital. She had brought in the large man that had been arrested. As he sat there, he tried to remember her name. Torres, he rembered. A smile crept to his face as he walked away unnoticed. This game was going to get fun, he thought.